Pills
by Delle Tuh
Summary: One may think we’re alright, but we need pills to sleep at night. We need lies to make it through the day - We’re not okay. Trio-centric. Rated for Language, Drug Misuse and Themes.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter._

**Author's Note: **Song: Pills by the Perishers. I find that songs give me stories more than anything, that's why I use them so much. These aren't songfic's per se, at least I don't think so. This one came from a song I absolutely love and I didn't get a story for it for a long time. This is what it gave me. I never could believe the trio was just all fine and dandy after it all went down. No one would be, at least, no normal person. Join the review revolution! -Delta

**Pills**

The flat was dark when he walked in, the television having been turned off for the night, the smell of coffee still lingering in the kitchen from her earlier caffeine binge. It was nearing eleven and Ron knew Hermione would probably be asleep, like she always was when he came home.

He took his coat off and slung it over a chair, sighing loudly as he pulled a hand through his hair. He opened the oven door to find his dinner there, perfectly wrapped on a pretty china plate he'd helped her pick out a few months ago, when she came back from her last year at Hogwarts.

He wasn't hungry, hadn't been in some time. He whistled softly and listened for the loud thump of paws on carpet before the dog finally came parading into the hallway. Tonka was old, with grey hair covering his black nose and framing his peach colored ears.

But it was one good thing to come home to. He frowned at his open bedroom door before sitting down and feeding Tonka the rest of his dinner. He took a few bites, just to taste, before piling the rest into his food bowl, and finally heading into his room.

He could see her outline in the shadows, see her hair pulled into a loose bun atop her head. And, he could see the bottle of pills on the bed stand next to her. He pursed his lips sadly before pulling off of his shirt and tugging down his jeans to replace them with boxers, and climbing into bed beside her.

She barely stirred as he pulled her close. A Sleeping Draught and Anti-anxiety pill slumber was something he couldn't shake her out of. He knew such from experience. So he pulled her up to his chest and stroked her cheek, her temple, bits of her hair. He watched her breathe, watched her small smiles as dreams of happiness and contentment made her eyes flicker.

She mumbles unintelligibly, few words between the soft moans and sighs, stippled with little whimpers as she nestled even deeper into his chest.

Ron continued to stare at the dark walls, listening as Tonka finally came back into the room, stopping to look up at the two of them before licking his chops and curling into a ball on his pillow in the corner. Ron smiled at him, waiting for sleep to pull him under too. He had another long day ahead of him tomorrow, and when he looked at the clock, he corrected himself. He had a long day ahead of him _today_.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his palm. He looked up and saw the pills, the sleeping draught empty and knocked over behind it. Finally, after taking enough time to contemplate the world, he reached over and popped the cap off the bottle and poured two into his mouth.

Self loathing poured into his heart but he couldn't help himself. He was just as fucked up as Hermione, and he well knew it. He had gone down this road when she had left, had been there for months. He knew Harry was still there, didn't know when or even if he would ever be able to get out of it.

But the gravity of everything, of the past eight years, was more than any of them could handle. Even if they were sharing the load, as they once did. Adulthood sets in and soon you have to pick your ass up and handle it yourself. But sleep doesn't come easy. It comes with nightmares and shakes and mumbles and screams and finally you're so tired that the Sleeping Draught starts to look damn good and those pills were enough to knock an elephant down.

But none of it was ever enough to make the pain, the weight of it all, go away.

And so the monotony continues. Ron continues to work until he's so exhausted sleep is the only option. Hermione self medicates to keep the demons away and Harry drinks his weight in mead down at the pub every night.

Neither of them wanted this for themselves, or for each other.

But now, it seems that's all they have left.

That and a graveyard full of friends.

--


End file.
